Plushie Land: Dreams, Disasters, and a Dark Secret
Plushie Land: The Grand Vision
“Picture it!” Brenda proclaimed, standing on her makeshift stage in the living room, which was really just a stack of old lasagna boxes. “A place where families come together, where the magic of plushies reigns supreme!
Plushie Land—the happiest place on Earth!”
John, dressed in a T-shirt that read
"King of Plushies" and sporting a foam crown, nodded eagerly. “We’ll have rides! A Ferris wheel shaped like a plushie cat! A water slide that looks like a giant stuffed octopus! And—wait for it—a plushie museum featuring
my collection.”
I groaned. “You’re actually serious about this?”
Brenda shot me a look. “Dead serious. This isn’t just a dream. This is
our destiny!” She waved a hand toward a poorly drawn blueprint of the park that was taped to the wall. Most of it was just pictures of plushies with names like
Fluffy the Fox Ferris Wheel and
Snuggle Bear Snack Shack.
“How are you going to pay for this?” I asked, knowing I’d regret the question.
Brenda grinned. “We’ve already got investors!”
“Who in their right mind would invest in this?”
“Well,” Brenda began, avoiding eye contact, “we kind of… maxed out a few credit cards. But it’s fine! Once the park opens, we’ll be rolling in cash!”
Catching Brenda in the Act
A few days later, I stopped by their house to drop off some paperwork I owed Brenda (she’d somehow roped me into being
Plushie Land’s “legal advisor”).
As I walked up to the house, I heard… noises. Strange noises.
I paused on the porch. It sounded like heavy breathing and muffled grunts. Concerned, I opened the door and stepped inside.
What I saw made me wish I’d stayed outside.
There was Brenda—on the living room floor—on top of a giant plushie panda. She froze when she saw me, her face turning crimson.
“WHAT. ARE. YOU. DOING?!” I yelled, shielding my eyes.
Brenda scrambled to her feet, yanking the plushie up with her. “This isn’t what it looks like!”
“It looks like you were—”
“I WASN’T!” Brenda screamed, clutching the panda to her chest. “I—I was testing its durability! For the park! You know, to make sure it’s safe for the kids!”
“Durability?!” I said, incredulous.
“Yes! That’s all it was! You can’t prove otherwise!”
At that moment, John walked in, holding a bag of plushie-sized cowboy hats. “What’s going on?” he asked, looking between us.
“She was—” I began.
Brenda cut me off, pointing an accusatory finger at me. “HE was doing something weird with the plushies!”
John’s eyes narrowed. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?”
“What?!” I sputtered. “That’s not true! She’s lying!”
Brenda nodded furiously. “He’s always been jealous of our plushie empire, John. He’s trying to sabotage us!”
“Mom,” John said, shaking his head, “you’re right. This guy has
bad vibes.”
“WHAT IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?!” I shouted, but they were already ignoring me.
The Plushie Land Disaster
Despite the awkward incident, Brenda and John forged ahead with their plans for
Plushie Land. They rented an abandoned mini-golf course and started setting up attractions.
It was… a nightmare.
The Ferris wheel, which was literally just a repainted carnival ride, broke down during its test run. The plushie-themed snacks turned out to be inedible (Brenda’s attempt at “plushie-shaped lasagna bites” ended with three taste testers in the hospital). And the plushie museum? John insisted on displaying every single item from his collection, including the ones he’d clearly “customized” during his lonely nights.
When opening day finally came, only a handful of people showed up, mostly out of morbid curiosity.
Brenda tried to stay optimistic. “It’s a slow start, but once people see the magic of plushies, they’ll come flocking in!”
Then the Ferris wheel caught fire.
Epilogue
By the end of the day,
Plushie Land was shut down by the fire department, the health department, and some very angry parents who demanded refunds. Brenda and John sat on the curb outside, surrounded by smoke and deflated dreams.
“Well,” Brenda said, trying to muster a smile, “at least we tried.”
John patted her on the shoulder. “Yeah. And hey, I kept one of the plushie pandas from the museum. It’s in my room now. You know, for emotional support.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’d seen the way Brenda looked at that panda. Some secrets are better left unsaid.
As for me, I walked away from the smoldering ruins of
Plushie Land with one thought in my mind: I needed new friends.